


only human

by lady_wonder



Series: Mass Effect Music Drabbles [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: BAMF Women, Gen, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, Loss of Parent(s), Mass Effect 1, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3, Mass Effect 3: Extended Cut, Military, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Original Character Death(s), Outer Space, POV Commander Shepard, POV Female Shepard, Paragon Commander Shepard, Parent Death, Post-Mass Effect 1, Post-Mass Effect 2, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Single Parents, Song Lyrics, Spacer (Mass Effect), War, War Hero (Mass Effect), Women Being Awesome, Women In Power, Women in the Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wonder/pseuds/lady_wonder
Summary: don't ever say goodbyei'm only human- "flowers for a ghost," thriving ivoryJane Shepard wonders if her parents would have preferred a son.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a music prompt challenge--get some lyrics, write a drabble, hijinks ensue.

 

_who will bring me flowers when it's over_  
_and who will give me comfort when it’s cold_  
_who will i belong to when the day just won't give in_  
_and who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins_

_don't ever say goodbye_  
_i'm only human_

 

* * *

 

 

Although her parents had always insisted otherwise, Shepard knew they had wanted a boy.

Considering how long her family had been in the military, from grandfathers and uncles and cousins, she supposed gender had to do with the tradition. Not that only Shepard boys had enlisted—the whole reason her parents had met was because her mother had decided to follow in _her_ family's footsteps as well, joining ranks to eventually become Hannah Shepard—but Shepard still felt her gender identity instilled more worry in her folks than it would have if she had been born a boy.

Following them from ship to ship, within the Earth's atmosphere, then beyond, then into the Sol system, and then beyond that as well—always _beyond_ to something more—her mother always was a bit more overprotective. Docks strictly off-limits, curfews tighter than a grunt's first boot, leave those coms alone, _don't touch that_. It got to the point that Shepard started asking if she'd be treated this way if she was a guy.

"Of course not, my little girl," Mom would assure, but there was still that concern, that fear, panic thrumming through her fingers as she gripped her daughter's hand. "Of course not."

They knew, though. Mom and Dad both knew it was only a matter of time before she enlisted too, and they weren't ready for it.

Then, the humans discovered the turians—then, the First Contact War began—and then Dad died. Dad _died_. All that sadness and shock left Shepard desperate for the Alliance, determined to make it where she belonged. She signed up on her eighteenth birthday.

To her surprise, Mom came with her to the recruiting post. It had only been a few weeks since Dad's funeral and she hadn't been doing well, but all that sadness and shock was in Hannah too; she watched Shepard, not as her daughter, not as the son she had hoped for (maybe just a little bit), but as a soldier. It had been the hardest day of Shepard's life.

Of course, that overprotected streak didn't lessen. Mom pushed for her to go into intelligence, internal affairs, _hell_ , even to politics—"Go back to Earth and fight for colonists' rights," she argued, "or go to Arcturus Station and fight for space expansion. It's still fighting!"—but Shepard needed the battlefield. She hungered to charge at something and destroy it, as much as she had been destroyed from within. She wanted to _hurt_.

Later—after catching the tail-end of turian battles, overwhelming and alien—after running headfirst into batarian conflicts, bloodied and angry— _after_ everything—she knew it was how she mourned Dad.

Eventually, Mom's pleas did get to her. She reported to Hannah about putting in for a spot on a ship, some new Alliance cruiser in the making, maybe become an XO. Less battles, less shooting, less death—just space.

When she told her mom, Hannah frowned over the com. "That isn't what I meant." Then, she sighed. "But okay."

Then, there was Elysium. It rocked her world more than losing Dad. She became a war hero— _a war hero?_ —and received medals and interviews and promotions up in rank. She made it through Interplanetary Combatives Training; she became an N7. It was like her mom's best dreams and worst nightmares had all come true at once: "My little girl—Commander Shepard!"

The terror was clear in her voice. It fermented and toiled, staying with Shepard like a weeping conscience, through each moment, from Shepard being made a Spectre, to Virmire, to the battle on the Citadel, to the Collectors attacking the Normandy, to the Omega 4 Relay, and then at last—having made it off of Earth and found a second to breathe and find what ship she was on, Shepard set up a link with her mom.

"You look as tired as I feel," was the first thing Mom said. But she was so scared; she tried to speak again, but her voice cracked and faded.

Shepard hadn't asked since she was sixteen, but the question grabbed her then. Softly, she asked, "Do you wish I had been born a boy?"

So much else filled her voice: _Do you wish I wasn't as tough? Do you wish I wasn't as determined? Do you wish I was delicate and diplomatic? Do you wish I didn't like shooting guns so much? Do you wish I stayed home? Do you wish I was still your little girl?_

Hannah sighed—she did that a lot when it came to her daughter, her soldier. "No." She was quiet, then a smile broke through her voice. "But I do wish your father could see you."

"He'd be terrified," Shepard said. "He'd hate that I was here. He'd hate that I've gotten so much attention. He always hated it when you got a promotion, made the news—"

But her mom cut in: "And that's not because we're girls, either. It's because he loves us, and he wanted to protect us from everything out there. We both did." She hesitated. Her voice shook when she whispered, "And I can't lose you, kid."

Shepard realized then that her biggest downfall wasn't that she was a woman in the military, wasn't that she hadn't been born a boy—wasn't that she had been born strong, born ready, maybe even born for something greater, born to become _someone_ —but her biggest downfall was that she had been born mortal. She was only human.

Shepard reached out and touched the holographic display. She reached out to her mom over space and wished she could see her once more before returning to the battle on Earth.

Instead, she smiled. "You won't, Mom."


End file.
